WHAT DOESN’T KILL by Lwazi Kisaka
They sometimes say “what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger”.
What doesn’t kill you…………well I say it puts you on life support.
I am on life support but it’s not like I was shot or attacked by any foreign being or particular circumstance. I jumped. Yes I jumped over a the cliff. I walked the wide road and took the step off the cliff. And now……..
Well……….what doesn’t kill you……leaves you in pieces. It leaves you with a million questions. It leaves you with habits that are ripping you apart and are threatening to tear your whole world in two. It leaves you with hurt and deep deep anguish. It leaves you with a sort of hole in your soul that is insatiable and un-“fillable”. But I am the one that pulled the trigger but the bullet left me with breath; am not dead.
What doesn’t kill you………..leaves you helpless, like a child who can’t walk; a man who is blind and dumb. You are left with regret enough to fill a thousand oceans because you know the choices you made were significant and now you know not how to face eternity. You are left clinging to life…by a thread.
What doesn’t kill you…………..leaves you, not dead, but in a comma…not thriving; surviving…..not belonging; longing………..hurrying going nowhere; your heart continually in transit…………..begging for both life and death in the same breath, not because you are scared to lean but because either would be better than the in-between…….not lost but unclear……..suspended in a chasm that tortures your soul because your soul is screaming for life beyond this but both it and the physical frame that holds it are battered and torn. What doesn’t kill you leaves you like me…..
But after all these stanza’s and lines, the pinning’s, the in-congruent rhymes of deep deep groans ……I am brought to the foot of a wooden cross where a man was killed……he took nails in his feet and hands and a spear in his side.
His death has brought me life. Though I do not understand it His death stemmed deaths tide and I meet him there…….and He breaths on my battered frame and wounded soul
And I say to him “If the “what” that did not kill me was a path to you and if “What” i have gone through can be a sign to lead other men here too then I would gladly write these stanza’s again and again.”
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